Maliciously Prideful Ego
by The Cheezit Faerie
Summary: Upon meeting each other in an abandoned hospital, both realize the look of blood suited the both of them. That realization would create an odd reaction within a Prince of ripping. Warning: yaoi, 69B.


**Disclaimer**: Akira Amano owns Mukuro Rokudo and Belphegor.

**Claimer**: I own the plot

**Warning**: yaoi, lime, slight blood, Mukuro X Belphegor, these two might be OOC depending on your view.

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Maliciously Prideful Ego

It seems that Varia needed that brat Fran again, only this time they couldn't get a hold of the Kokuyo Gang in the usual fashion. Xanxus would have to send one of his own central Varia members in order to get a hold of the young man, making sure that Mukuro Rokudo knew of this. After all, Varia tends to borrow the little guy with the frog hat whenever they needed him.

The other unfortunate part to this matter was that Belphegor is the only person who is available to get Fran. The reason being that everyone is out on their own missions after the Vongola had been attacked by the Millefiore. They were the team that's expected to get rid of the leftovers.

But Belphegor didn't necessarily complain since he's able to let his knives sing songs of torrents of blood. It was a symphony that he craves and looks forward to every time Xanxus would have some lackey call him to his office.

But the grin that naturally graces his face is gone as he's heading to the lower parts of Italy in a private car. He wasn't being sent to get rid of some Millefiore cattle. Instead, he's being sent to retrieve the brat and act as a babysitter. That's unacceptable, but Belphegor wouldn't dare defy Xanxus's orders if he knew what was good for him. Being a prince didn't matter to the raven-haired man who would gladly shoot a large hole through the blond if given _any_ sort of reason/excuse to do so. And then he couldn't be seen by the boss for a while because he would be angry that he wasn't able to permanently silence Prince the Ripper.

Hills of winery land starts rolling in, making the last part of Belphegor's trip a blur because it was so boring. The blond was pushed to the point that he had started to make little minuscule cuts on his own fingers. It was amusing to see his crimson royal essence pop up. There wasn't nearly enough blood to make his mind go off the deep end, but it was enough to make him feel giddy and somewhat hyper.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately for Prince the Ripper—the taxi that he was in now lies on its side in a ditch. The blond walks into town, no splatters of blood on his clothes that have no tears. The only thing that's different is that one of his knives resting in his pocket is stained with red, now drying and crusting into a brown color. The blond is giggling to himself as he treks across the city to the other side where there will be more desolate and abandoned buildings no one wants to deal with until they explode to make room for new malls, office buildings, etc.

An empty hospital sits in some ruin and decay a little further than the city limits end. Vines hold a great portion of the building in nature's cradle, the sounds of insects being the lullaby of the world as it tries to take back what was made by man. Even so, the three story building stands tall. It had an eerie air about it, a mute voice trying to say not to enter, pass by and don't look.

Perhaps it was a touch that was added by Fran's master.

Belphegor manages to pry some wood from a hole in the building where a window used to be. It wasn't hard seeing as the wood was decaying and the nails keeping it to the concrete were rusted and half gone anyway. The blond jumps onto the window sill before landing on the floor inside the hospital. Some gurneys still scatter the first floor, along with dusty useless machines with spider webs, insect bodies, and leaves hanging—untouched.

But where could the brat be?

The Prince is forced to wander aimlessly, looking into dark rooms that are either empty or have a few trash objects of no worth or use. As his frustration starts growing the blond ventures as far as going over to a gurney and knocking it over while saying, "Oops~! Ushishishi~"

"Kufufu, that was amusingly rude."

Sticking his hands into his pockets, the blond is forced to turn his head around to see who had spoken—although that chuckle is as unforgettable as his own. Leaning against the doorway with an arrogant and sly smirk on a narrow face stands the blue-haired Mukuro Rokudo with crossed arms, and a trident in the crook of one of those arms. A large grin plays onto the blonde's face as he chuckles his own unique laugh.

His finger caresses cold metal in his pocket.

"Ushishishi, it's not like you live here~" he points out.

"To what do I owe for a visit from a Varia member?" Mukuro questions, quirking his head a little. "I thought it was well-known I don't normally like for the mafia to intrude upon my life."

"Shishi! I'm here for the idiotic frog," Belphegor informs the illusionist.

"Why would I let you know anything after you just ruined the flow of this room?" Mukuro questions, now picking at an invisible string on one of his gloves.

"Ushishishi, because you don't live here," Prince the Ripper points out. He walks past the blue-haired man, catching a whiff of what smells like metal and leather. It's an intriguing combination as he moves into a new room, looking for some entertainment as he tries convincing this man to make his job easier—in finding Fran, that is.

"On the contrary, for today I do live here," Mukuro replies as he casually and lazily follows the Prince as he intrudes upon another room with a few drawers strewn about with papers littering the floor.

"Rather messy, if you ask me."

The Prince kicks a drawer hard enough so that it almost exploded into pieces upon hitting the wall. The wood of it was rather rotted to where that was expected. Upon turning around—perhaps to wreak more havoc—a half-covered face is meeting the tip of an illusionist's trident. Belphegor breaks out his toothy, morose grin as he tilts his head.

Perhaps this one is looking for a fight?

He licks the tip of the trident.

Ignoring that action, the illusionist inquires, "Oya, oya, do you intend to further dirty my home with your presence if I don't give you the whereabouts of the little one? Because you see, I still have use of him yet. I can't just hand him over to Varia whenever you all feel like having him around."

"Of course~" Belphegor answers.

Gripping the handle of his knife, the blond takes it out with almost lightning speed and slashes at the trident, making it turn away from his face. With another knife in his other hand, Prince the Ripper intends to slash Vongola's Mist Guardian, but the blue-haired man blocks the attack with the pole of his trident rather easily.

"Well, you can serve as my entertainment for the time being. Kufufu," Mukuro chuckles.

Unfortunately, Varia's Storm Guardian stood no real chance against probably the world's best illusionist. Soon enough, he was on his back—that would bruise in the morning—with a heterochromic-eyed man crouching over him, arrogant smirk on his face, and the tip of the longest point of the trident sticking into the ground, a short point having left a scratch on Prince the Ripper's left cheek.

The blond laughs.

"Is it funny that you lost?" Mukuro questions with a raised eyebrow. "Now it's easy for me to no longer wonder why they tend to call you insane. But I must say that blood is a color that really suits you."

"I wonder if I could say the same about you, Rokudo."

Prince the Ripper reaches up and grabs a handful of blue locks framing the right side of the illusionist's face. He lifts his head, elongating his scratch on his cheek but covering the other male's mouth with his own lips. Through his blond locks, he stares as heterochromic eyes as they blink at the turn of events.

Rearing back, Mukuro tears his face from Belphegor's. He doesn't look all too amused as he licks his lower lip where it's bleeding. Belphegor laughs at him, knowing that he was able to bite that lower lip to see that rich red liquid flowing over that condescending mouth that is ticking him off at the current moment.

"Ushishishi, yes, I would say blood _does_ suit you, Rokudo!"

"Oh, if only you knew how much you would regret that, Prince the Ripper. Fran won't be out for long, so we'll see how long you last."

"Ushishishi!"

A gloved hand grabs a handful of blond locks, snapping the head of Prince the Ripper backwards as he bites down on that pale neck. He feels a shiver and then hears a unique fit of giggles.

The mafia never ceases to surprise Mukuro Rokudo, especially for tonight when it takes the form of an arrogant blond.


End file.
